FAME GAME: Barry Larkin (left) and Vicki Santo, wife of the late Ron Santo, show off the two men’s Hall of Fame plaques yesterday.Getty Images

COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. — Halfway through yesterday’s Baseball Hall of Fame induction ceremony, Cincinnati icon Johnny Bench took off the Reds hat he had been wearing in honor of Barry Larkin and replaced it with a blue Cubs hat bearing Ron Santo’s No. 10.

It was clearly not the kind of day to play favorites.

On a sun-baked afternoon in the Catskills with a decidedly Midwestern flavor, Larkin and Santo, two of baseball’s beloved figures, became the 298th and 299th members inducted into the Hall of Fame. A little more than 18,000 fans, many wearing Reds or Cubs colors, dotted the grass outside the Clark Sports Center and on a nearby hillside.

Larkin, the slick fielding shortstop who spent his entire 19-year career with his hometown team, was elected in his third year on the ballot and Santo, the slugging third baseman and long-time Cubs broadcaster who died in 2010 due to complications from the diabetes that cost him his legs, was ushered in by the Hall’s Golden Era Committee.

“Ron’s life was never about the lows,” said his wife, Vicki, who delivered a poised and very eloquent acceptance speech. “He always made it about the highs. … He said his ability to play baseball was a God-given gift. Playing the game was easy. It was only the diabetes that made the game hard.

“Looking back, he believed he was given the gift of talent as well as the challenge of diabetes so that, through his hardship, he could shed light on a cause and help others. And I think he would say that’s why he now has been given the greatest honor any athlete could ever hope for from a sport — to be included among the greatest players who ever set foot on earth.”

Santo, who raised more than $65 million for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation during his life, kept his disease hidden for the first 10 years of his career. He monitored his blood sugar and insulin levels on his own and self-medicated in the clubhouse with a candy bar or a swig of orange juice.

“Ron Santo was as much a guinea pig [for diabetes] as he was a baseball player,” Vicki said. “On a given day, he played doctor and patient as well as third base.”

Vicki told of an afternoon when her husband’s blood sugar fell suddenly and, as he stood woozily in the on-deck circle with two runners, he hoped Billy Williams would make the final out so he could get back in the dugout. But Williams walked to bring Santo to the plate.

“His vision was blurry and he was weak,” she said.”His plan was to hit the first pitch. But he didn’t count on seeing three balls coming to him. So he picked the middle of the three and swung hard. … He hit a grand slam.”

As they rounded the bases, Vicki said, Santo grew perturbed at how slowly Williams was running and told him to pick up the pace. It wasn’t until years later he explained why he was in such a hurry.

“He was afraid they might take baseball away from him,” Vicki said. “That’s a long time to keep a secret. … It never held him back. Not even after double amputation because Ron Santo believed it’s not what happens to you in your life, but how you handle what happens to you in your life.’’

Following the ceremony, Pat Hughes, Santo’s WGN Radio broadcast partner, stood quietly by the stage. It was clear it had been an emotional afternoon, an emotional weekend.

“But Vicki put it right,” Hughes said. “It was a happy day. Ron was all about laughing, loving and living. … It would have been fun to see him up there. He might still be talking.”

“It doesn’t matter how long it took to get here,” said Vicki. “Baseball was Ron’s love and it also kept him alive the last 10 years.’’

She recalled hearing her husband tell his doctor, as he was being rolled into surgery to have one of his legs removed, the timing of the operation was perfect.